


Military School is Shit.

by whythefujamievenonthis



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whythefujamievenonthis/pseuds/whythefujamievenonthis
Summary: My own little storyline for Eric and Adam, about their relationship, Adam's time at Military School and much more!It’s gonna be about Adam getting a taste of his own medicine, making him realise just how much of a bully he can be, whilst also exploring more of Eric’s perspective about all that’s gone on.





	1. Karma's a Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> Just to explain: I aint shipping the way their relationship is right now, I personally think Adam hasn’t redeemed himself or realised how bad he was to Eric yet (yes his Dad has negatively influenced him, but that’s no excuse), and I ain’t a fan of shipping unheathly relationships. However, my fic will be my own take on how Adam and Eric develop over the course of a long period of time, and my own take on how Adam’s behaviour could change for the better, so if they were to date later on he would treat eric much better than he has previously.
> 
> The science room scene in ep 8, in my own opinion, does show how genuinely nice Adam could be, however he still has 4 years of bullying to make up for (whether or not he does that in my fic is yet to be decided) - which I plan to explore and show in this fic. I could never really ‘ship’ their relationship the way it is now, so i hope this little rant clears up my intentions for this a bit!

Military School was shit. There was no two ways of thinking about it. It was fresh Hell. Adam knew as soon as he’d stepped out of that car and onto the gravel walkway that led up to the institution, that he was going to hate every moment he was there. The guy who’d driven him all the way there seemed decent enough, but that couldn’t distract him from the reality of his situation, no, not even a tour around the gargantuan building could manage to do that. It was as if the man that had driven him there had performed that tour fifty dozen times over; as soon as he’d pulled the handbrake and made the car come to a smooth hault, he began talking about the history of the building, how and why it was built, what it’s intentions were with each student. Even as he was helping Adam grab his two large and heavily packed gym bags, he couldn’t seem to shut up about the smallest details of the exterior building; how long the concrete crest (that sat just about the large front double doors) took to make, how the concrete that held the bricks together contained bricks from old WW2 bunkers that had been knocked down and turned into paste, specially to build the institution ect ect. History. Adam always hated History.    
  
The inside of the building, and the tour, wasn’t much better than when they were stood outside. As soon as the double doors opened and Adam stepped inside, he began to cough heavily as ancient dust came loose from the military themed decor that was hung on the walls and resettled in his lungs. The walls that made up corridor in front of him were a deep shade of shit brown, that was the only way Adam would describe it; the wood panels that made the wall were neither falling apart, but they weren’t exactly all shiny and well cared for. The interiors brown walls were paired with the camouflage green of the carpet, and the deep burgundy red of the felt banners that had been strung up besides the other wall decorations. Who ever designed this place didn’t exactly major in Taste or Style.   
  
After a few seconds of standing in the corridor (as the man giving him the tour relocked the two front double doors shut), Adam noticed two other guys, probably students, come from a set of double doors that branched off from the right hand side of the corridor, and walk across, seemingly to a staircase of some sort that was on the left hand side. They didn’t notice him, or perhaps, chose to ignore him. He couldn’t tell. Adam couldn’t decide if their monotone grey uniforms made them stand out or blend into their surroundings.   
  
“I do believe I forgot to give you my name before! Captain Eric Mayweather, thought it’s Captain Mayweather to you.”   
  
Adam turned around slightly to see who’d been talking to him. It was the man who’d driven him here in the first place. He looked down to see the man had his hand outstretched; he was waiting for Adam to shake his hand. Adam promptly strung one of the two bags he had in his hands over his shoulder, and gave the man his hand to shake. He looked middle aged. Apparently he’d skipped the salt and pepper hair stage and went straight to balding.   
  
“Nice to meet you, Captain.” Adam replied, feeling slightly ridiculous since he’d just spent nearly an hour in a car with the guy.      
  
For the next forty or so minutes Adam had to endure the rest of the Captain’s tour, going from one room or corridor to the next, viewing the outdoor training grounds, physical training facilities, ect. Boring shit basically. And eventually (finally), the Captain finished the tour by showing Adam his room: it was okay in size, about the size of his old room, all four walls were bare and painted bone white, the beds were small and probably uncomfortable and his dress probably just had enough space to- Wait.    
  
“Um, why are there two beds in here?” Adam asked.   
  
“Because you have a roommate.” the Captain replied, “You didn't expect to have a room to yourself did you?”

  
Adam didn’t know what he’d been expecting, to be honest.    
  
“Count yourself lucky, a lot of poorer Military Schools have up two twelve boys to a space - bunk beds, of course.”   
  
Adam decided not to reply as he made his way into the room, placing his bags down one the bed furthest away from the door, and then sitting himself down one the edge of the bed.    
  
“Well, I’ll let you get settled, dinner starts at 6:30 sharp every evening. Dinner finishes at 7:30, so after you’ve eaten, you will take yourself to the staff room to find me, and I will take you down to find you some uniform for tomorrow. Once you have your kit, it’s lights out at at 8:45, and an early start of 5am tomorrow morning. Understood?”   
  
“Yes, Captain.” Adam replied, his voice sounding tired and uneasy. He really didn’t like this.    
  
“Oh, and, your phone.”   
  
“What about it?”   
  
“You’re going to have to give it to me.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Now, now, you’ll be getting it back at the weekend like everybody else. But we can’t afford you getting distracted during the week’s training can we? You’re going to have to hand it over.”   
  
Adam hesitated before he eventually took his phone out of his jacket pocket and handed it over to the Captain.   
  
“Good lad.” the Captain replied as he placed Adam’s phone in the pocket of his own uniform, “Remember, dinner at 6:30! Do not be late!”   
  
  
                                   -----------------------------------------------------------------   
  
Adam had had about 20 minutes to process as much as he could before he had to head down to dinner. And even as he headed down to the dinning hall (he’d remembered it from the tour he’d been given not long before), he felt as if he needed another hour just to process everything that had happened that day. It was a lot, maybe too much, to take in. But regardless, at 6:30 exactly, Adam found himself walking into the dinning hall and making his way over to the serving area to get his food. With him being so one time (which made a change given how he was late for every lesson at Highschool), other students at the institution were only just coming into eat too. The selection wasn’t much different from what was available at school, which made Adam all the more confused as to why his Dad went out of his way to pay so much money to send him here. After grabbing a plateful of food, Adam sat himself down at one of the long wooden tables, rather then there being an actual chair (like there were at the tables in his old school), the long tables were matched with equally long wooden benches.    
  
After sitting himself down at the very end of one of these benches, Adam watched as more and more students filed into the dinning hall; in perfect lines and in perfect order, the taught routine of getting food was like clockwork for them. The only thing that seemed to put a spanner in their works, however, was Adam. At the Institution, nobody started in the middle of term, nobody really joined so suddenly and out of nowhere, infact, the norm was that students started their time at the institution in Year 7 and that was it. It was unusual for someone to join ‘the ranks’ so late into their time in the education system. But that didn’t necessarily mean Adam was too happy about all the looks he was getting as the other boys stood in line waiting to get food. No. Adam just wanted to have his time in that Hell hole over with as quickly as possible.    
  
After nobody sitting with or talking to him at dinner (not too dissimilar to how he spent lunch near the end of this time at his previous school) and getting his uniforms, Adam immediately headed back to his room. Having forgotten he had a roommate, he couldn’t help but stop in his tracks after entering the room and seeing another lad sat there on his bed, almost as if he’d been waiting for him the whole time.    
  
“Umm…” Adam began, unsure of where to start with the already awkward interaction.   
  
“Your shit was on my bed.” The boy stated, ignoring Adam’s attempt at conversation.   
  
At closer inspection, Adam could see that indeed, his stuff was no longer on the bed the boy was currently sat on. In fact, he couldn’t see his stuff… anywhere in the room?   
  
“Well, can you tell me where my bags are now?” Adam asked as he threw his new uniforms down onto his apparent actual bed, he was already a little irked by the guy’s manner.   
  
“Why don’t you go look for them, new kid?”    
  
Sigh.    
  
Well.   
  
Suppose this was all a part of his Karma, wasn’t it?   
  
  
                                 -----------------------------------------------------------------    
  
  
Eric couldn’t quite process everything that had happened that day. But he also felt like he wasn’t too far away from discovering the truth. He had been so close to figuring out more of what went on inside Adam’s head, and then he’d just… left. Did he know he was going to leave when he started what he did in detention? If he knew he was going to go, was all of that just him going out of his way to fucked with Eric one last time? How long was he even going away for? Where had he even gone to in the first place?

  
Still. Even for Adam, going that far to mess with him seemed like something he wasn’t capable of.   
  
But it still didn’t make sense! That kiss… and everything that happened afterwards, what he did in science that day, it all seemed just a little too genuine to be some kind of fucked up prank - especially the look one his face when he saw Eric at his house. But at the same time, four years of tormenting him, only to pull something like that seemingly out of nowhere? Eric was half tempted to scream into his own pillow as soon as he shut his bedroom door. It was pretty unfair for Adam to just leave like that. He still had a thousand and one questions that Adam was yet to answer, and apparently none of them were going to be answered any time soon, if ever.    
  
But he hadn’t hated it, what happened during detention. No, he hadn’t hated it at all, actually… Which made the whole situation even more baffling. Four years of Adam stealing his shit, calling him Tromboner, and genuinely making his school experience pretty shit, why didn’t he hate it? Why wasn’t he lying on his bed despising Adam right now? Why, instead of pushing Adam away, did he want to do the exact opposite? Was sex really that powerful, for him to really think and feel like that over one thing that’d happened during  _ detention _ ?    
  
Eric couldn’t lie. He was fairly confident that if Adam was to somehow appear in front of him in that moment, the first thing he’d do was give him a slap to the face; then berate him with questions, maybe an insult or two in relation to all the shit he pulled when they were at school together, and then he would- and then he would… Well. He didn’t exactly know what he’d do after that. But he knew he’d do something.    
  
“Eric? Dinner will be ready soon, make sure you come down to eat!”   
  
“Yes Mum! Alright, I’ll be down after you shout me!”   
  
Eric returned to flopping down onto his bed.    
  
He kinda wished Adam was in front of him in that moment, to find out what that something was.


	2. As Bad as Each Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know anything about military school, but, since this show is also set a highschool that looks like it's been ripped out of america and plonked in the middle england, im sure you can forgive me haha

**5am** : Wake up  
  
**5:30am** : Breakfast  
  
**6:15am** : Shower and Dressed for Morning Activities  
  
**7am** : Outdoor Warm ups  
  
**7:15am** : Outdoor Circuit training  
  
**8am** : Indoor Gym Training (Weights, Treadmill, Rowing Machine ect.)  
  
**10am** : Outdoor Shooting Practice  
  
**11am** : Outdoor Cool Down Workouts  
  
**12am** : Lunch  
  
**1pm** : Indoor Gym Training (Weights, Treadmill, Rowing Machine ect.)  
  
**2:30pm** : English and Maths  
  
**4:30pm** : Shower and Relax in Room  
  
**6:30pm** : Dinner  
  
**7:30pm** : Back to Room  
  
**8:45pm** : Lights out.  
  
  
That’s how every day played. Like a cassette tape that just played the same song over and over. Even if the menu in the dining room changed, somehow the food managed to taste the same everyday too. Two weeks into his time at the ‘School’ and both of his parents had failed to contact him, or even attempt to do so, even once. Not to mention he’d lost all phone privileges in his first week after he’d shoved another student to the floor in an effort to fight him, it wasn’t his fault though, really, that prick had provoked him by making a comment about his dick when they were all in the showers. He had it coming.  
  
It wasn’t exactly worth it though, since not only had he lost all phone privileges for three weeks, but his Dad had extended his 6 month stay at the school to 8 months. Adam had no clue where his Dad was pulling the money from to fund this, but it was most definitely a shitty thing to do. An extra two months? Because some dickhead provoked _him_ ?  
  
Not to mention, the rest of the students really didn’t like him. At all. He thought his roommate hiding his bags (which he later found in a block of toilets) was just something to annoy, or even intimidate him, because he was new. But apparently everyone else in his year liked the idea of that, and decided to contribute to this effort to make his time at the institution even worse than it already was. In the first week alone he lost track of all the times they’d tripped him up during circuit training or cross country runs, or the number of slaps to the back of the head he’d received whilst trying to eat his dinner as students had to walk past him to sit down. Not to mention all the times his roommate (Michael) had either stolen or hidden parts of his uniform, just when he needed them. But with his phone gone for the next couple of weeks, and his ‘prison sentence’ extended, after a while, Adam couldn’t bring himself to fight back anymore. No, he had to restrain himself if he wanted to get out of that place any time this century.  
  
It was annoying though. Having no contact with the outside world. No means of talking to his Mum, no means of talking to- Well. He didn’t exactly have many other people he could speak to besides his Mum, and she hadn’t even attempted to contact him. Every Saturday when the others would get their phones back for the weekend, he had to sit there on his own as he listened to the others call their parents, or girlfriends, or whoever the fuck they wanted to call just because they could. It was like they were shoving it in his face. He didn’t know who he’d talk to besides his Mum, even if he got his phone back, apart from her there definitely wasn’t anyone that’d attempt to text him first. Maybe he'd just use his phone to watch videos, or scroll through Instagram?  
  
Maybe he could message Eric-  
  
No. No. He wasn’t a fucking idiot. As if Eric would reply, even if he did message him! As far as Adam was aware, Eric had probably already blocked him on every piece of social media he had him on (which was a pretty shit feeling, Adam couldn’t deny that). For now, Adam would just have to be content with not having a phone for another couple of weeks. Maybe his Mum had sent him a text but had forgotten his phone was confiscated? Yeah. That was why he hadn’t heard anything from her, it had be.  
  
“How are you doing, Freak?”  
  
Well if his day couldn’t get any worse...  
  
It was after dinner, there was still another 45 minutes before lights out when his roommate Michael had arrived in their room.  
  
“Not a freak.” Adam replied, as calmly as he could muster, flicking a page of the book he was attempting to read. Yes. A Book. It’s not like he had anything better to do, his mum had just packed clothes, pajamas, toiletries and a couple of toothbrushes - no comics, or his Ipod, or anything that would possibly entertain him. He’d found the book (amongst others he now had tucked under his bed) when he stumbled across the school’s tiny library by chance; he’d taken a wrong turn on the way up to his room one night after dinner, and the surprisingly unlocked double doors of the library found him gazing at the rows of barely filled, dusty bookcases. He wasn’t gonna read any of that old shit, Charles Dickhead or whatever his name was, and a lot of the titles were in old english, or they were about War history - neither of which Adam could be arsed even reading the titles of. Eventually, however, Adam managed to find a small selection of Roald Dahl, almost hidden in the very back of the room. The Witches, The BFG, Matilda, The Twits… The art on each of their covers didn’t look half bad, which was really the only reason he picked them up to take back with him to his room - so much for not judging books by their covers.  
  
“Pretty freakish of you to be reading, Freak.” Adam had quickly grown to hate that word. Freak. They all used it in reference to when they first saw his dick in the showers, apparently that made him fit the criteria of being a freak.  
  
“Most people can do it.” Adam replied, trying to keep his answers short as he finished up the third chapter of The BFG.  
  
“Fuck off, normal people don’t waste their time lookin’ at words on a page. They go outside.” Michael stated as he began to change into his pajamas.  
  
“I do enough of that already, thanks.” Adam replied, still not looking at Michael as he tried to move onto the next chapter. The book wasn’t actually that bad; not too wordy, and the drawings gave him something to look at. Why did his Dad never buy him a book like this as a kid? Who knows, maybe he’d’ve given a shit about English when he grew up?  
  
Michael didn’t say anything for a while as he got changed, but once he was in his pajamas, he made a point of saying how much Adam was a freak again (under his breath), before getting out his phone (since it was _still_ the weekend) and turning up its volume so his typing was obnoxiously loud. At first Adam tried ignoring it by burying his face deeper into the paragraph he was trying to read; but after the fifth time of having to re-read said paragraph, he snapped a little:  
  
“Listen, text as much as you want, I don’t give a shit, but lower that down. It’s putting me off.”  
  
“Well maybe I can train you to stop reading if I do it some more?” Michael replied with a smirk.  
  
“I’m not a fucking dog.”  
  
“Hey, I’m the one trying to help you here, if people were to find out you actually do that shit,” he said, gesturing to the book in Adam’s hand, “they’re gonna treat you even more like a freak. Do you want that, Freak?”  
  
Adam was silent. No he didn’t want others to give him even more shit than they already had. But no, he wasn’t gonna quit reading a book just because of what Michael said. He was too stubborn to do as he was told or advised - that’s why he was there in the first fucking place. He looked over the top of his book and glared at Michael directly, just for a few seconds, before returning to the book. Adam couldn’t lie, Michael was pretty built: probably only a half inch smaller than he was in height, and after (presumably) years of Military School, he was a lot buffer than he was. Adam could only imagine what Michael would say if he found out that he had three other books hidden underneath his bed.  
  
_I should stick the other books between my mattress and the bed when he’s not around tomorrow morning_ Adam thought to himself, he could hear Michael’s phone still clicking away in the background - if he was willing to shove Adam’s bags in the toilets, then it wasn’t unimaginable to think he’d make sure Adam didn’t find those books again. The books weren’t really all that important, he’d only had them a little over a week, and he was only just getting round to really starting any of them; it was a pride thing more than anything. Those books were some of the few things Adam could say were all his in that school, he didn’t want to give them up yet.  
  
                                         ----------------------------------------------------------  
  
“Eric… Eric?”  
  
“Hmm? I’m listening.”  
  
“Sure.” Otis replied, sarcasm lining his voice.  
  
Okay. Eric hadn’t been listening, at all. He’d been trying to reign in how much his brain was trying to wander ever since he sat down for his first lesson that day. But now, at home, his brain was free to run around in his head as much as it wished; Otis was actually mid-sentence, talking about the History work they had to do for the next day, when he noticed Eric was ignoring him. Not that he saw it, no, they were one a phone call at the time - but Eric’s few vague responses such as “Yeah.”, “Sure.” and “That’s cool” gave him more than enough information to let him know what he was saying wasn’t being taken in.  
  
“I dunno.” Eric stated, “I just, I’m distracted? I guess?”  
  
“And why’s that?”  
  
Eric paused for a moment, unsure if he should really admit what was on his mind, “Promise you won’t blow a fuse?”  
  
Otis just felt more concerned than angry at that point, “Yeah? I promise, you can tell me.”  
  
Eric double checked that nobody was nearby his room to hear what he said next, “Adam kissed me.”  
  
“Adam kissed _you_ -”  
  
“And gave me a blowjob.”  
  
Otis nearly choked on the air he was breathing, “He _what_ ?”  
  
“When I had detention with him, and then he left for Military school.”  
  
“I don’t believe this-”  
  
“It’s true! I swear. But now I’m really confused.” Eric replied.  
  
“You’re not the only one!” Eric guffawed, “You’re telling me, that Adam, the guy that bullied you for _four years_ , kissed you, gave you a blowjob, and then just left?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Otis couldn’t help but go quiet for a while, maybe this was some kind of fever dream without the fever? It was- it was definitely something. To now know his best friend and the guy who bullied him had sex in detention, was a whole new level of baffling; right up there with his Mum trying to write a book about his own lack of sexual escapades. Apparently Eric could quite clearly hear Otis' silence, and decided it was a bad sign:  
  
“I can feel your judgement! You’re judging me! You promised!”  
  
“I promised I wouldn’t get mad. Not that I wouldn’t judge you.”  
  
“Otis!”  
  
“What do you want me to say? You had sex with him, neither of us can change that! But that doesn’t mean I like it. Eric, he’s given you shit, daily, for the past four years. _Four years_. That’s a long time.”  
  
“Trust me I know.”  
  
“Then why let him kiss you? Why let him do everything he did afterwards?”  
  
“I don’t know!” Eric replied, almost shouting, “I don’t. But, I didn't hate it. I really didn’t. And, I don’t think he did either.”  
  
“Eric-”  
  
“Trust me, I don’t get what’s going on either, he hasn’t tried to contact me since he left.”  
  
“Did you try contacting him?” Otis asked.  
  
“No, what would I even say? _Hey Adam, about that time you sucked my dick…_ I just, I don’t know where to begin with him.”  
  
“Maybe try saying _Hello_ ?”  
  
Eric went silent for a bit. Unsure of where to continue with the conversation, Otis was silent on the other end of the phone too, probably waiting for Eric to reply to what he suggested; but after around half a minute of nothing being said, Otis decided to really speak his mind.  
  
“Listen, Eric. I… Whatever you decide you want, I’ll try and support you. But this whole thing about Adam, I don’t like it. I can remember what he used to do to you in school, I know you can too-”  
  
“Otis-”  
  
“I’m just worried, alright? I don’t want you getting your hopes up about that guy, only for him to reveal he’s changed his mind, or wasn’t being genuine in the first place, or whatever’s going on in his head. I don’t doubt that he’s got shit he needs to figure out, we’ve talked before, he’s not pure evil or anything - but if he hurts you…”  
  
“I won’t let him.” Eric replied, his words secure and steadfast, “I won’t. I know what he’s done to me in the past. All the times he’s taken taken my bag, my lunch, my pencil case so I have to spend an extra ten minutes after class explaining why I’m not the equipped, all the times he’s pinned me to the lockers, all the glares, or the occasional threats. _I know_. But I don’t think he’s capable of messing with me like that, I really don’t. He looked… sad? Or maybe shocked, when he last saw me before he left, and it looked genuine.” Eric paused, and let out a loud sigh before continuing, “I don’t know what goes on inside that head of his, or what’s going on behind the scenes. But I don’t think he’s that much of a dick that he’d try to hurt me like that.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
Eric paused again, “I guess? Yeah. Yeah that’s what I think.”  
  
“Do you like him?”  
  
Eric was thankful they weren’t facetiming, because Otis would’ve definitely seen him blushing a little, he definitely felt his cheeks go red as he thought about it; was he being sheepish? Or was he blushing out of embarrassment because of his situation?  
  
“I dunno.” He admitted, “But I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”  
  
                           -------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
It was a little over a two weeks later. Four weeks into Military School. Adam’s three weeks of no phone privileges was finally over, and early that morning, Captain Mayweather did his weekly run of returning phones to their owners, room by room. Adam couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction as the Captain dropped his phone in his hand, and he appreciated the small smile the Captain had on his face as he returned it to him (along with its charger). Adam immediately jumped onto his bed, placed his book The BFG, that he was pretty close to finishing, to one side of his bed and switched on his phone. He was excited. For the first time since he’d started at the school he was excited. Surely, _surely_ there had to be one notification, or a text, or _something?_ From his Mum maybe? Or perhaps a notification from his Snapchat or Instagram? The WIFI at the school wasn’t too bad (according to other students he’d overheard during lunch the previous day), so it wasn’t impossible that he’d get something from them.  
  
When his phone switched one, Adam couldn’t help but feel like-  
  
“A complete fucking idiot.” Adam quietly muttered to himself.  
  
Nothing. Not a single thing was waiting for him on his phone. Not a text, not a call, not a notification besides a Systems Update saying his storage was running low. He waited, then shut the screen off and one again, and… Nothing. He didn’t give a shit if his Dad didn’t call or text him, what hurt more was the fact there wasn’t a single thing from his Mum; had _he_ made her not contact him? She’d always done what Dad said, no matter what, it wasn’t exactly out of character for her to follow every command he gave her - whether she liked it deep down or not. She was always too eagre- no, too desperate to please him. But… Surely she could’ve sent him a text in secret, just to ask if he was alright? Adam didn’t want to admit it, but he was near crestfallen at the lack of communication from his own Mum.  
  
Why was she always like this?  
  
Not that Adam could really say too much on the matter, he was as bad as she was in his own way, he thought briefly.  
  
Michael seemed to have picked up on Adam’s reaction to looking at his phone, and he seemed to relish at the sight of it as he looked at his own phone, which seemed to be overflowing with texts and notifications.  
  
“Aw, did little Adam not get any messages?”  
  
“Fuck off.” Adam replied, short, sharp, but there was still a twang of hurt in his voice he just couldn't swallow. He went from lying on his back, to turning over onto his side (so his back was facing Michael). Lying on his bed, he continued to stare at his phone, occasionally at the wall in front of him, but eventually he always went back to the phone, willing it into giving him some sort of message from her, and after a few minutes, some sort of notification from anyone. Then, a thought flashed across his mind like a bolt of lightning; and before he could even stop himself, Adam was already looking at Eric's Instagram account. He hadn't blocked him yet.   
  
  
He was right there in his hand. He was a few seconds away.  
  
All he had to do was type _Hello_ .  
  
Maybe he’d reply?  
  
Maybe he’d block him?  
  
Maybe he say how much he hated him and then block him?  
  
If he sent that message.  
  
The ball would be in Eric’s court.  
  
He could do anything he wanted with it.  
  
Probably reject him.  
  
  
Yeah.  
  
That was too… Yeah. Not yet.  
  
He wasn’t ready to hear that yet.  
  
  
Adam let out a long sigh as he eventually let go of his phone, letting it rest on his bed as he slowly picked up his book to start reading again. Everything seemed a little calmer once the phone was out of his hand, it was calmer for the time being at least. Which was good. Maybe he’d play a game on his phone later? Or try and give his Mum a text - there was a chance she may reply at least. As he tried to focus on the words he was reading, his mind briefly flitted back to Eric, and he silently cursed himself as he shook the thought out of his head.  
  
_I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it._ He thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoyed, please leave a kudos or a comment! and if you didn't, some helpful criticism is always welcome here! Thanks for everyones support on the first chapter, I hope you all continue to enjoy how i develop the story for these two!


	3. We Need to Talk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR MILD VIOLENCE

It was Wednesday. Two days until Adam left. Temporarily, that is. Once every two months, the students were let out for a weekend to be with their families, and then they’d have to return to the institution on the Monday morning. Somehow, despite his little incident during his first week, Adam was told he was also allowed to head home that weekend too - but he didn’t know how to feel about that. He looked different: his hair was shorter because it was buzz cut that way once every two weeks, he probably looked a little bulkier as a result of all the physical activity the school made him do daily, not to mention the extra elbow grease he’d recently been putting into his English and Maths lessons, and his late night reading back in his room - he was just about to finish Matilda; so he probably looked as tired as he felt. But he still had another 6 months left to complete before his Dad would even consider letting him come home. He didn’t quite feel like Adam anymore. Though he didn’t know if that was really a bad thing.  
  
The one positive was that this was the longest he hadn’t been in a fight since he was twelve. That was definitely something, right?  
  
Of course the others in his year, as well as his roommate Michael, had gotten more frequent in their attempts to provoke him - not by much, but enough to be noticable. It started out being every so often, then every other day, and then daily. And on top of tripping him up during exercise and hitting him around the head in the canteen, they’d taken to shoving into him as hard as they could (without getting caught) as they passed him in the corridors, sometimes he’d even have to grab hold of the wall to stop himself from falling over. At first he used to tell them to “Fuck off” or “Watch it”, but by the time his one month anniversary at the school arrived, he’d learnt it was best to just keep on walking. It wasn’t too bad though, when he thought about it, he could look out for himself no problem. He could deal with it for another 6 months. They were probably trying to just make him leave. Hell, he even wanted to go without them giving him shit, but his Dad was going to make sure he served his full sentence.  
  
It was Wednesday afternoon and Adam was walking out of the classroom, he’d just finished a maths lesson - and he hadn’t done too badly either. No where near the best in class, but the teacher seemed to at least notice the effort he was putting in; it was extremely ironic, but he was actually better at English. He was walking down the hallway to head over to the showers when Captain Mayweather spotted him after leaving the Staff Room, and joined him in his journey over.  
  
“Groff! How are you?”  
  
“I’m alright sir, just heading down to the showers.” Adam replied. He was actually pretty eagre to get down there as fast as he could. He was the first one to finish the test the teacher had given them that lesson - so he was the first one allowed to go (whether or not had actually got decnet marks was a whole other question though). As far as he was aware, he could get showered and changed in time before anyone could show up and give him shit about… anything they would think of really.. He just wanted to be out of the showers as soon as possible.  
  
“Good, good, I’ll be walking down with you then - got to have a word with one of your classmates.” Mayweather stated, unaware Adam was the first out of lesson, “How are you finding everything?”  
  
“It’s alright, just had English and Maths. I’m definitely better off in the classroom I think.” Adam replied - it was like he was trying to get out of P.E or something.  
  
“What? A young lad like you? I’m sure you’re doing just fine out there.”  
  
Well it was worth a try.  
  
“And eh,” the Captain began, “What about the other boys? How are they treating you?”  
  
Adam couldn’t help but pause for moment, as they continued to walk. Sure, they defintiely weren’t friendly, and he was pretty sure his roommate was some sort of ringleader for them all, but wasn’t that just what he deserved, after all the shit he pulled in the past?  
  
“Adam?”  
  
“They’re fine sir.”  
  
“Just fine?”  
  
“Just fine.” he confirmed, with a small nod of the head. If the Captain took this up with his dad, Adam could only assume his dad would think he was trying to get out - and who knows how many more months he’d add to his stay there?  
  
The Captain didn’t exactly look convinced, “Well, if there’s ever anything going on, you let me know, alright? I’m here to help where I can.”  
  
“Yes sir.”  
  
The pair were silent for the rest of the journey, the conversation seemed to have died off, and it was only when they reached their destination that the Captain suddenly had another topic of conversation he wanted to bring up with Adam. Adam was just about to enter the shower room when the Captain stopped him with a simple: “Groff!”.  
  
“Yes sir?” Adam asked as he turned around to face the Captain.  
  
“You are aware of the lettering system we have, aren’t you?”  
  
“I know my alphabet if that’s what you’re asking?”  
  
“No, no, no. I mean letters that you send to others through the post!”  
  
“Yeah.” Adam replied, not yet seeing the point of the Captain’s question, “Bit Victorian and ancient though, isn’t it?”  
  
Captain Mayweather cleared his voice before continuing, “Yes, well, that’s up for debate. Anyway, every Thursday, students come to my office and drop off letters they wish to be sent out. Surprisingly enough, all students use this service at least once during their time here. I suppose they write them in the week because they don’t have a phone.”  
  
“I didn’t know that was a thing.” Adam replied, his interest peaked a little.  
  
“Yes, well, you do now. I just thought I’d mention it, if you wanted to drop off a letter at my office tomorrow, I’d be more than happy to post it with the others.”  
  
Adam was quiet as he considered it. He’d need to get paper, a pen and some sort of envelope; and he’d have to figure out who to write to, if anyone. Would anyone even reply? Besides, he’d be home on leave in two days, and it sounded like effort he couldn’t be arsed having. But still, it may be useful later on, even if he didn’t send a letter that week.  
  
“It’s a bit old school, but yeah, I might drop by your office tomorrow.” Adam replied, “But um, I’ve really got to go, I don’t want to spend too long in the shower.”  
  
“Right, right, I’ll leave you to it, Groff. Oh, and is Parsons in there? He’s the one I needed a word with.”  
  
“I’m the first one in my class here Sir, you’re gonna have to wait for him out here.”  
  
“Ah, I see. Very well.” The Captain replied, nodding his head and promptly turning around. Adam took this as his opportunity to finally get in the showers and wash. Captain Mayweather was a little bit odd, but it was more endearing than annoying (to Adam’s own surprise).  
  
_Write a letter?_ He thought to himself as, after getting changed, he allowed the hot water coming from his shower head to cover him head to toe, _Who the fuck would even read something I wrote them?_  
  
For the next few minutes, Adam was lost in his own thoughts, the idea of having a quick shower to avoid the others had gone down the drain with the soap suds. It hadn’t even entered his head how long he’d been standing under that shower until the heard the door slam open with a harsh thud, and the prompt noise of boisterous yelling and shit talking filled the slightly humid air.  
  
Shit.  
  
  
                                         ----------------------------------------------------  
  
  
Eric stepped out of the shower, wrapped himself up in a dressing gown (neon yellow, obviously), and headed back into his bedroom to do some… research. He made sure nobody was nearby his room to, um, hear his research going on, grabbed his laptop, and pulled up the page he needed. He promptly found an interesting looking ‘educational video’ and clicked on it, luckily it looked like just the information he needed. The two specimen being shown were extremely attracti-  interesting to look at. One of them in particular, especially. He had light, brown hair, not exactly muscular, but he still looked pretty buff, especially since he was so tall… To be perfectly honest, he looked a little bit like Adam-  
  
“Nope!” Eric exclaimed as he slammed his laptop shut. _Nope, nope, nope, fuck that, not today, I’m not thinking of Adam fucking Groff at all_ he thought to himself as he placed his laptop on the other end of his bed. He was unsure whether or not it was alright to grab his laptop again, but, that tab had to be deleted sooner or later - and he definitely didn’t want his mum finding it, or worse, his dad. He shivered at the very thought and promptly grabbed his laptop again, re-opening it to delete the tab that Adam 2.0 was on. Once he’d gotten rid of it, Eric shut his laptop again, placing it on the floor next to his bed. He rolled over so his back was facing his bedroom door and let out a long sigh.  
  
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Eric asked himself. Seriously, Adam? Of all people he could’ve pictured, the number of celebrity faces he could’ve imagined, he scrapped all of them and thought of _Adam Groff_ ? It was too weird.  
  
It was detention. It was a one time thing. He was now in military school, he hadn’t seen him in two months! Why now, was he thinking of him? He was sure he didn’t have proper feelings for him, he knew that much. The Adam that he remembered was still a dickhead, blowjob or no blowjob. Sex wasn’t gonna make up for the torment he put him through. But that didn’t explain the way Adam had looked at him before getting in that car, or that he'd liked what they'd gotten up to in detention, or the fact he was thinking of him whilst trying to watch-  
  
“This is stupid.” Eric muttered to himself, “If I ever see him again, I’ll ask him the questions I need answers to, and leave it at that. As soon as I hear what I need to know, he’s out of my life. He’s not a bad guy, but that doesn’t mean he’s staying in my life. Simple.”  
  
Simple. If only it had been as easy as he’d thought…  
  
  
                                     ------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
“What’s up Freak?”  
  
“I’m busy Michael, fuck off and find someone else to annoy.”  
  
How the Hell had he been so stupid? Spending so long in the shower, now his situation was ten times worse! With everyone else in his class fully dressed, and him being completely naked, all he needed now was a Dunce cap so he could be crowned King of Complete Fucking Idiots.  
  
“No, we’re alright, aren’t we lads?” Michael replied, followed by a murmur of agreement from the others students.  
  
“Are you sure you guys aren’t the freaks?” Adam asked, trying to finish his shower as quickly as possible, “You’re stood there watching me get washed.”  
  
“No, no, no, you don’t understand, Freak.” Michael stated, taking a couple steps forward, closing the space between himself and Adam, “You see, with it being so close to us all having a well deserved break, we thought we’d have a little chat with you.”  
  
“Can’t it wait till after I put some clothes on?” Adam asked, sounding more irked than anything. Michael had developed a habit of refusing to call him by his actual name, it was pretty annoying to be honest. Deciding it was time to go, Adam turned off his shower and tried to make his way past Michael; but he was stopped by his roommate grabbing him by the arm, compared to the shower he’d just had, Michael’s hand was cold so Adam couldn’t help but shiver ever so slightly as he was grabbed. At this point his blood was beginning to boil, but he had to control it. He couldn't risk losing his leave when he was so close to getting out.  
  
“Get off me Michael.” Adam commanded, but Michael didn’t listen, and instead pushed him back to where he’d been standing under the shower.  
  
“You’re gonna have to listen to me now, Freak.” Michael stated before continuing, his look suddenly more serious, “We don’t like you. You put the name of this place to fucking shame, you’re only here because your Dad begged like a dog and waved the right amount of cash around, and even worse you didn’t even started in the beginning of the year like the rest of us! Some of us actually chose to be here and have been here since the beginning. We don’t like you. But, I’m pretty sure we got that message across.”  
  
“Crystal clear.” Adam replied, though he seriously doubted if anyone (besides Michael himself) genuinely chose to be at the institution. He wished he felt like fighting him, but if anything, Michael’s intimidation tactics were working. With around twenty other muscular looking lads stood there behind Michael; he was trapped, he wasn’t getting out of this whether he fought back or not. But he didn’t let his expression slip, he wanted to look as unphased by all of this as possible.  
  
“So I’m going to say this, nicely, once.” Michael stated before taking another step forward, “You’re gonna leave during the weekend, and you’re not going to come back. Do you understand me, Freak?”  
  
Adam was still stone faced, “Loud and clear. But my Dad’s begging and money paid for me to stay here for another 6 months. And he’s _really_ not going to let me come home early. I won’t be going anywhere.”  
  
Michael glared, so hard that Adam could almost see flames dancing about in his pupils, he looked so angry. He knew he shouldn't have said that, but he wasn’t ready to be walked all over, not again, especially by someone like Michael. Was it a big mistake to reply with something like that? Most definitely. But it felt somewhat rewarding in the moment to see Michael briefly falter at Adam’s reply. From that alone, Adam had a feeling Michael had used similar tactics to scare other new students away, how many of them he couldn't tell, but enough for Michael to be surprised at Adam’s refusal to actually go. Adam watched as Michael’s mouth twitched into a sinister looking grin. His roommate took one or two steps back as he spoke in an eerily light hearted tone:  
  
“Wow. Looks like you’re stupid _and_ a freak! I didn’t think it was possible to be both, but you, you proved me wrong! You know, I had a really great goodbye present prepared for you! Since we have such fond memories of sharing a room together, don’t we Freak? It’s not much, but it was gonna be something to remember me by.” Michael looked at Adam directly at the end of this small speech, his strongest fist clenched tight, “But you know what? Since I went into all that effort, even if you come back, even if it’s a little early, I think I’ll give it to you anyway.”  
  
                                -----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Mr Groff sat there, mumbling to himself. He tended to do that when he was lost in thought, mainly in his office where nobody could see, but he did it nonetheless. He could feel that his left leg was itchy, but he couldn’t be bothered scratching it, not when he was so busy thinking. It was also pretty chilly in the kitchen, his red pen rested limp in his hand; he’d been mid-way through marking more reports from school. But there he was, frozen in place in his usual chair in the kitchen, not doing anything except think of something that wasn’t even relevant to the work in front of him.  
  
Adam.  
  
God that boy was infuriating.  
  
Still, him coming home that Friday night, he wasn’t sure how he felt. He thought it may relax him to see how much Adam must’ve changed since he started, but at the same time - what if he was the exact same? What if he was still causing trouble? Getting into fights? There was still so much time left, maybe Adam was just refusing to settle down - even in Military school perhaps he was still wreaking havoc?  
  
“Sweetheart? You’re mumbling again.”  
  
It was his wife. He looked up to see her stood in front of him, she was close, her eyes furrowed in concern, she looked the same as she always had for the past 20 or so years. Yes he’d certainly fallen for her when they met, perhaps she loved him a little more than he did her, but he still loved her to this day - yes there was no doubt about that. To be honest, a strong part of him suspected she’d fallen for his stern manner, even when they’d first met.  
  
“Hm? Yes I was, thank you dear.” he replied, calm, collected, back down to earth and no longer mumbling. Yes, there was no doubt he still loved her. She’d always made up for his lack of emotion in… most things, even the children.  
  
“Coffee?”  
  
“Tea.” he replied. Even after so many years, she seemed to forget he preferred a strong cup of tea.  
  
As his wife returned to the kitchen to put the kettle on, she decided to try and make small talk as the radio played classical music in the background, “So, how do you think Adam’s getting on then?”  
  
  
                              -----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
It was cold. That was the first thing that came to mind. How cold that floor was, and wet. Despite the hot shower he’d had, the floor was wet and cold. How hard had he hit the floor? He couldn’t tell, but given how tall he was, he knew he’d fallen from a decent height. His head seemed to pulsate slightly, like he had a migraine. Everything looked slightly fuzzy, like someone had put a filter in front of his eyes, or they just couldn’t adjust for some reason. Looking around, the lights seemed a little brighter in some places, and dimmer in others, and it was like someone had turned down the volume so he couldn’t hear properly. It was almost scary how different everything looked from the floor.  
  
He’d been punched. And his left eye was throbbing more than his head was; at first he hadn’t felt it, but then as the seconds droned on, the pain filtered through slowly, like it was passing through a sieve first before reaching him. It hurt. It really, actually hurt. Adam tried to prop himself upright with his arms, the rest of his body seemed steady enough, and if he was shaking, it was probably a mix of him being cold and angry. It had to be, right?  
  
“Well, how’d you like it?” Michael asked, massaging the hand he’d used to punch Adam as he spoke. At this point, the rest of the lads began to filter off, getting undressed to get showered themselves.  
  
It took Adam a while to answer, but eventually he did, “I don’t.”  
  
“Thought as much.” Michael replied, “But at least you’ll have something to remind you of what you'll be coming back to - because _that,”_ he said, grinning as he bent down to meet Adam’s gaze, “is definitely gonna leave a mark.”  
  
Adam didn’t reply this time, not that he had anything particularly witty or sarcastic to reply with. He just stared back, the pain in his eye getting worse. Eventually he stood himself up, and Michael copied him; refusing to break eye contact. Christ that Prick didn’t give up, did he? Adam looked around, some of the other lads where getting showered now too, and nobody was gonna be on his side about what'd happened - they’d stick up for Michael if he so much as _implied_ he’d punched him. Adam looked back at Michael, and immediately felt sick to his stomach; for a brief moment, Michael reminded him of himself? Like, it was his head on Michaels shoulders. Was it a trick of the light, or had he seen things wrong because he'd banged his head from falling? Maybe he was going insane? Still feeling sick, Adam pushed past Michael hard with his shoulder, grabbed his towel from the hook he'd placed it on earlier, wrapped it around his waist, grabbed his clothes and left the showers. He was probably going to get told off if he was caught walking around the school half naked by a teacher, but fuck it. He didn’t care at this point.  
  
Why the fuck did Michael have to remind him of himself?  
  
After just five minutes of practically running through the hallways, Adam was already back in his room. Some how he hadn’t been caught. He slammed the door shut. His chest was heaving with he didn’t know how many emotions. He felt like barricading the door shut with the chest of draws that sat at the foot of his bed, he felt like screaming, he felt like destroying the room he felt like… He felt like... a hug might've been nice, in that moment. Still taking deep breaths, he sat himself down at the foot of his bed. He wanted to run his fingers through his hair like he used to do when he was stressed, but there was no hair there because it’d been buzzed short. He couldn’t even have that. He needed to calm down, this wasn’t good, he couldn’t let this shit get to him.  
  
_Mrs. D, Mrs. I, Mrs. FFI,_ Adam began to recite quietly, _Mrs. C, Mrs. U, Mrs. LTY. That spells difficulty._ He’d remembered it from the book he was reading: Matilda.  
  
Again. And again. And again, he recited those names till he didn’t even have to think about them. He wasn’t sure how long he actually did that for, but he’d calmed down before Michael had come back, that was the important thing. Michael didn’t get to see him panic, nobody got to see him panic. He still got to go home that Friday night. He would handle it. He _could_ handle it. As he sat there calming down, his memory flashed back to the Captain telling him about the letters. Today was Wednesday, tomorrow was Thursday; the day when the letters would be sent off.  
  
Maybe he would write something?  
  
It didn’t take him long to think of someone, really the only person, he wanted to write to. He stood up from the bed and grabbed one of his Gym bags. See, the problem with Military school, is that the English and Math supplies are limited. Every lesson they make you return the pen you borrowed, and they don’t give out extra sheets of paper, unless it’s for a small piece of homework. Adam was sure he had a pencil somewhere deep in the bottom of one of his bags though, and after a few seconds of rummaging through, he discovered one; blunt, short and in need of throwing away really, but it’d work. He definitely didn’t have an envelope, he’d have to trust that Captain Mayweather would give him one, so all he needed now was paper. For a moment or two he was stumped about what to use, but a solution soon came to him. The books.  
  
The BFG and Matilda both had one empty extra page at the very back of them, Adam didn’t know why, but they did. Immediately he grabbed one of the books (The BFG) found it’s extra page, and ripped it out. A little rough, and uneven, but there was definitely enough space to write on. He used the book as a rest of write on, unsure of what exactly he should say, he kept his message short and to the point. He would only hope that he would convince the Captain into giving him a stamp that would have the letter delivered the very next day, or early the day after? As soon as possible really. He would only hope that the person who got his letter would comply, or even read it.  
  
  
                                     ----------------------------------------------------------  
  
It had just gone 4pm that Friday evening, Eric hadn’t long returned from school when he heard the letter box in the front door open and shut. Odd. Were Mum and Dad’s bills usually delivered on a Friday? Curious, he exited the kitchen and made his way over to the front door.  
  
“Eric, did something come in the mail?” his Mum called from the livingroom.  
  
“No! It’s fine, Ma.” Eric lied. Something had been delivered. But it wasn’t a bill or bank statement. It was for him. Yeah, that was definitely his name written messily on the envelope. Secretively, he slunk up the stairs to his bedroom, promptly shutting his door closed before flopping down onto his bed to open the letter.  
  
It couldn’t be from a relative, it wasn’t his birthday or Christmas; it couldn’t be from the school, since there was no school emblem to be seen anywhere on the envelope; and it definitely couldn’t be from Otis - they were only a phone call away from one another. And it certainly felt too thin to be a card of some sort. So who the Hell could it be from? Desperate to find out, Eric near tore the whole thing to shreds in his excitement to rip open the envelope and read whatever was inside, but the appearance of the letter itself only baffled him more: it was folded in half, and the paper itself was a beige-yellow colour, like it’d been ripped out of a book or something. Eric unfolded the paper and read what was written on it. As soon as the words sank in, he felt as though his head was spinning.  
  
  
_Eric,_  
  
_Meet me at the river bank - the one we met at when you were walking all those dogs. 2pm on Saturday. If you decide to go, don’t be late, I don't think I'll have very long._  
  
_We need to talk,_  
_  
_ Adam.


	4. Why'd You Have to Go and Make Things So Complicated?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four chapters in - I reckon it's about time these two actually meet face to face.

**7:30am**  
  
It was early. Too early to be awake on the weekend. Eric didn’t even have that much homework to do, so he couldn’t lie to himself and say it was because he had work to do. No, it was all because of Adam. That bloody letter he’d received, he could recite it word perfectly by now, he knew every detail it contained, and he knew he had hours before he had to meet Adam at the river side, he had hours to decide if he was even going to show up. For around twenty minutes he just lied there in bed, feeling lazy, sick to his stomach and nervous all at the same time. Was he gonna put any makeup on? Was he gonna bother dressing nicely? Wait, wait. He still had to decide if he was gonna go, yeah, he still had to do that. But then again, he had told himself he wanted answers, and he knew Adam was the only one that could give him those answers.  
  
After another ten minutes or so of trying to decide, Eric pulled himself out of bed and sat himself upright; he was facing the door, black Jesus was next to him probably judging how contradicting he was being by not wanting to show up. It was too soon for this, too early to decide what he wanted.  
  
**9:00am**  
  
Adam had already been awake for the past hour. Too nervous to sleep properly: what was Eric gonna say? Was he gonna even show? And if he did, what exactly would they talk about? Adam had written the letter saying he wanted to meet Eric, yes, but that didn’t mean he knew what he was gonna say - in fact, he had no fucking clue. If he’d had the option, he’d’ve gone for a run or something, but with him basically under house arrest at the command of his father, he didn’t really have any other option except to stay in bed. The one point in the day he was allowed out of the house was to take Madam on a midday walk - that was the one opportunity he had to go see Eric without raising suspicion, or his father’s temper.  
  
Eventually he got out of bed to brush his teeth and shower, during which he tried multiple times to figure out what he was going to say: “Hey, Eric, it’s been a while!”, nope, “Wassup, I brought Madam with me!”, no,“Hi Eric, so, how do you want to move on from me sucking your di-” no. Definitely not. After swilling his mouth with mouthwash and spitting it out, Adam looked up into the small face mirror in front of him. The black eye was still there, no hiding that, but apart from that… he guessed he looked alright? After splashing a hand full of water on his face, Adam left the bathroom - his next challenge was to find something decent to wear.  
  
**9:30am**  
  
He wasn’t going to go. Nope. No. Nada. He wasn’t going to even step out of the door, he was just going to leave it. He never promised he’d actually turn up. He just got the letter, even if he hadn’t binned it yet, that didn’t mean anything. He didn’t owe Adam anything by turning up to the river, he didn’t owe Adam his time or emotion, he didn’t owe that guy shit. Yeah, he wasn’t going to go, he was just going to go back to bed and stay there the whole day. 2pm would come and go and that would be the end of that.  
  
**10:30am**  
  
Adam was already dressed, had been for a while, and as much as he’d tried to stay in his room for as long as possible, as much as he’d tried to distract himself by reading one of the books he’d taken with him from Mountview, he was hungry - so eventually he had to head downstairs to make something. As soon as he finished walking down the stairs, Adam heard his Dad shout for him from the dining room, the dining room was on the way to the kitchen, so there was no avoiding him. After letting out a sigh, Adam slowly made his way over to where his dad was sat at the dining room table, whatever his Dad was about to say, Adam was 95% sure it was going to be negative - it usually was anyway.  
  
“Adam.” his father stated, not bothering to turn around and look at Adam.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Good to hear you up and about before midday, even if it is already ten thirty.”  
  
“I’ve been up since eight, I just stayed in my room for a while.”  
  
“Breakfast?”  
  
“Getting it now.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Adam was a bit put off by this, his Dad hadn’t said anything bad yet? It was odd, usually he started off his rants pretty quick, he’d never really been so civil before starting them. After a few seconds of standing there, his dad still not looking at him or speaking, Adam eventually continued making his way over to the kitchen, still a little uneasy at the conversation he’d just had with his Dad. But just as he got to the doorway leading into the kitchen, his Dad spoke again, making Adam stop in his tracks.  
  
“I don’t want you thinking me letting you come home for the weekend means I’m not ashamed of you anymore.”  
  
Okay, that hurt a bit, even if he already knew that.  
  
“My grades are getting better.” Adam stated, at least trying to show he was bothering to do his work.  
  
“I know, the school has informed me of your small progress.”  
  
“I’m getting Cs now.” Adam tried, it was true, he’d actually gotten Cs in two of the homeworks he’d been set in English. He was still getting Ds in maths though.  
  
“That doesn’t mean I forgive you.” his Dad replied, firm and harshly, “Nor does it make up for the fact you’re still getting into fights over there.”  
  
“I told you I was the one who got punched, no one else.”  
  
“You expect me to believe that? I don’t know how you managed to lie to the teachers so well.”  
  
Adam paused for a split second, as if considering what he was going to say next, “That’s because I didn’t.” He was more fed up than weary at this point.  
  
“Another lie like that and I’ll make sure the only reason you leave this house is to get in the car back to Mountview on Monday, do you understand?”  
  
Adam decided to stay silent.  
  
“Now, go get something to eat, you’re walking Madam today, remember?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
**11:30am** **  
** **  
** He did need answers from Adam though. Yeah, it was Adam that owed him, not the other way around! He needed answers, nothing more. Eric had finally decided. He was gonna go. No lazing around in bed, no distracting himself with homework, he was going to get ready and go out there and get what he needed from Adam, maybe even give him a piece of his mind; let him know just how much of a dick he’d been to him over the years!  
  
Wait. He still had to get ready.  
  
What the fuck was he gonna wear? Eric had decided to put some effort into it, since it was most definitely going to be the last time he’d see Adam, he at least wanted him to know what he was missing. And the makeup, the blue eyeliner, he had to wear that too. He was going, he was actually going to turn up and speak to Adam Groff, and he was going to make that boy regret ever calling him Tomboner, yeah, that’s what he’d do. He was sure of it. No turning back down. After picking out a pale yellow turtle neck jumper to go with his black skinny jeans and shoes, he was pretty much set to go in terms of outfit (since his jacket was hanging up downstairs). He’d already showered and washed his fact at this point, so next was the makeup: he was going to keep the base simple, that way the blue eyeliner he’d put on his waterline would really pop. He was gonna make Adam regret every little thing he pulled, he was going to get the answers he needed, and he was gonna go and never talk to him again. Eric quickly grabbed his phone and put his music on shuffle to listen to as he got ready.  
  
**1:30pm** **  
** Adam had had to pass the time upstairs reading the remainder of his book, he didn’t feel like sitting downstairs when his Dad was there - not at the risk of his Dad kicking off again about something. It was weird, him reading, he couldn’t get used to the idea of people finding out - but when he wasn’t allowed his phone, those books were the only decent entertainment he had. He was reading The Twits, and Mr Twit almost reminded him of his Dad: he couldn’t exactly put it past him, to not tie him to a hundred balloons and let him drift away; he’d achieved that in his own way already. It was a short book, but he was a slow reader, and he liked to look at the drawings, so it occupied him enough so that when the alarm he’d set on his phone went off at 1:25pm, the sudden realisation of how close he was to seeing Eric again dawned on him. He had to be out of the house with Madam by half past, or his Dad would get annoyed.  
  
He just hoped Eric would actually show up. For some reason, he wasn’t okay with letting things end the way they had.  
  
**2:00pm** **  
** **  
** He was there. He’d actually shown up. Eric had actually gotten ready and shown up, he was a little surprised with himself to be honest, even if he knew he deserved answers, he didn’t completely expect himself to actually meet Adam. Adam Groff, the guy that’d given him Hell for four years, that had purely called him Tromboner for all that time… wanted to meet him after what they’d unexpectedly gotten up to, in detention. Given enough time Eric’s head would probably start spinning just thinking about it all. But he was there now, that was the main thing.  
  
And so was Adam.  
  
He hadn’t quite arrived at the river bank, he was hesitant waiting at the opening in the bushes that led into it. He would see Adam, sat by the water, his dog’s lead held tightly in his hand, he wasn't moving all that much. Eric didn’t think he’d be as nervous as he actually was. Adam looked the same from a distance, so what if he was still the same inside? What if all of this was some sick way of Adam having a laugh before he carted back off? Why had he been as stupid as to go alone and not tell Otis or his Dad or his Mum or… anyone, where he was going? What if this all went horribly wrong and- Stop. Thinking like that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. After taking a few deep breaths, Eric looked straight ahead and walked over to where Adam was sat. Adam wasn’t looking at him, he was just looking at the water in front of the both of them, though Eric did see Adam go to move his head only to stop himself - as if he had something he didn’t want Eric to see.  
  
“I got your letter.” Eric stated as he sat himself down one Adam’s right hand side, unsure of how else to start the conversation.  
  
“Yeah…” Adam replied, unsure of how to continue for a moment, “Thanks for actually showing up.”  
  
“I almost didn’t.” Eric admitted as he made himself comfortable on the ground.  
  
There was a heavy pause before Adam replied, still not wanting to look at Eric, “I thought so.”  
  
For a while neither of them knew what to say, it was like they were both experiencing human interaction for the first time, it was weird. As they each sat there trying to concoct the right words to say, Madam wandered over to Eric so he would give her some attention; Eric did so willingly and began stroking the long fur on her ears before he finally found something to say:  
  
“You said we needed to talk.”  
  
“Yeah, I thought we did.”  
  
“Me too.” Eric agreed.  
  
“What, what do you want to talk about?”  
  
“You sent the letter, you say your reason first.”  
  
“I don’t know if my reason is the same as yours-”  
  
“Adam if you don’t say it I’ll just go straight home.”  
  
“Alright!” Adam replied, giving in, “I wanted us to talk about what happened in detention, and everything after.”  
  
“Well it looks like we’re one the same page. I want answers.”  
  
“Start asking questions.”  
  
Eric paused, Adam was leaving the gates wide open for him to ask anything he wanted? Really? It was unexpected. He half thought Adam wouldn’t even give him the satisfaction of knowing he reasoning behind what they got up to in detention; why he had made the first move. Was he definitely talking to Adam? From the side profile he had from sitting next to him, it certainly seemed to be Adam.  
  
“Why did you kiss me?”  
  
No response.  
  
“Why did you… do what you did after that?”  
  
No response.  
  
“Why did you try to hold my hand in science?”  
  
Again, no response.  
  
After letting out a small sigh, Eric tried one last time, if he didn’t get an answer, Adam wasn’t getting his company, “Why did you look so sad before you got in that car?”  
  
This made Adam flinch. This made Adam finally look at him, this made Eric finally see that black eye Adam had:  
  
“Because I knew I was going to miss you.”  
  
“Adam, oh my God- What happened to your eye?”  
  
Realising Eric had seen the bruising, Adam turned his face away from Eric, only to feel Eric lightly hold him by the side of the face and push him back to make him look at him. Despite everything that had gone on between them, despite the fact Eric had every right to hate him, he was still looking at him, concerned lining his eyes - for a brief moment Adam couldn’t help but think how Eric was too good for him.  
  
“Did you get into a fight?”  
  
“No.” Adam replied, honestly.  
  
“Then how did you even-”  
  
“It’s nothing I can’t handle, alright?” Adam replied, not taking his eyes of Eric. He didn't want to ruin this. If he told Eric he was having issues at school, Eric might have decided he was more hassle than he was worth (some would say that was already pretty accurate), he couldn’t risk losing what he was trying to get back, not over something so simple.  
  
“Adam just tell me-”  
  
“This isn’t about me or Military school.”  
  
“But it is about us.” Eric retorted, “And I… Wait, you knew you’d miss me?”

  
“Well, yeah?” Adam replied, sounding unsure, “I mean, you were the only person who I ever really tried to talk to at school after that whole _thing-_ ”  
  
“Where you flashed everyone in the canteen?”  
  
Could’ve been worded a bit more gracefully but Adam soon replied with a “Yeah, after that. Nobody spoke to me.”  
  
“Well you only spoke to me to take my money and my Lunch to be fair.” Eric replied, he wasn't letting Adam off so easily just because he’d said something that resembled something sweet.  
  
“I didn’t know of any other way to talk to you. I didn’t know how to start a conversation without you thinking I had ulterior motives.”  
  
“So you continued to rob me?”  
  
“Yeah alright I know my thinking didn’t make sense, but what else could I do?”  
  
“Try saying hello maybe?”  
  
“Would you have really talked to me though? Or would you have ran off like you did when I hadn’t even said a word to you? Would you have seriously replied or thought I wasn’t going to beat you up or something?”  
  
This made Eric think, and soon enough he had an answer, Adam looked like a sad or guilty puppy, “You’re right. But you could have just left me alone.”  
  
“I didn’t want to! Because then I’d have nobody, even if you hated me or not, knowing I’d see you everyday was worth it more than never talking to you again.”  
  
Silence. Complete silence. How could Eric reply to something like that? Was it some sort of confession? Was Adam saying he had feelings for him without being direct? How the fuck was he gonna reply to that? Just as he was trying to think of something to reply with, Adam spoke again:  
  
“I also remembered what you said to me, at the party. How we’re different but we’re both the same, two losers that nobody wants.”  
  
“Is that, I said that?” Eric asked, incredulous - he didn’t recall saying that at all.  
  
“You were wasted, so you probably don’t remember. But it always stuck with me. At first I thought it was bullshit, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. And then at detention, something clicked for some reason, and I realised what you’d said was right. How we’re different but we’re the same.”  
  
“Adam-”  
  
“Being at Mountview has been shit. Really shit. But I’m actually working, to get out of there, to get back to Moordale as insane or impossible as that sounds. I really hate every minute of it there, I hate having nobody to talk to at all, my parents never visit, the only contact with anyone that treats me decently in two months, was writing you that letter.”  
  
Eric wanted to speak, but he was struck dumb by Adam’s words.  
  
“And I know, I’ve fucked up, a lot, and I’ve got stuff I need to sort about myself - but I’m gonna do it. I don’t want to be the Adam that had to be sent to Military School, I don’t want to be that Adam anymore.”  
  
“You don’t look like him. Short hair and all.”  
  
“A haircut isn’t gonna change shit, I’m still that loser nobody wants. And I’m gonna be, for the rest of my life, if I don’t change shit.” There was a long pause before Adam finished what he was saying, “Even if I only change just enough, even if I only change to the point where I’d only have you to talk to, I wouldn’t hate that.”  
  
Eric looked at Adam, and he would see how… genuine those words were? Adam meant it. Every word that had just come out of his mouth, he’d meant all of them. If he wasn’t speechless before, he definitely was now; and before he could even process everything that’d been said, the sound of an alarm going off from Adam’s phone sounded.  
  
“Shit…” Adam muttered as he turned the alarm off, “I need to go home.”  
  
“Already?”  
  
“I did say I probably wouldn’t have long. If I get back home late, I’ll never be allowed out the house again.”  
  
“I suppose you better start heading off then.”  
  
There was a moment of uneasy quiet as Adam called Madam to his feet and put his phone back in his pocket, it looked as though he was just going to walk away and leave without even saying goodbye, but he did actually look at Eric one last time to speak: “I know you must hate me, for a lot of reasons, and you never want to see me again. You’re not the first to think that. But thanks, for coming to see me today, I guess I finally got closure for once.” Adam wasn’t smiling or frowning, he was just… Adam, “Sorry if I didn’t answer all of your questions. And… and I’m sorry, for everything else.”  
  
And with that, Adam turned around to go home, Madam’s lead in hand, Eric couldn’t help but see how… singular Adam looked as he walked away, it was like the image of him walking away would look distorted or weird if someone had been walking beside him. It was a depressing thought to be honest, the idea that it’d look weird if someone was walking next to him. It must be lonely. Eric had Otis, and his parents, and his siblings at least… From the sounds of it, Adam didn’t really have any of that. Had it been like that for a while? It kind of felt that way.  
  
For some reason, Eric wasn’t ready to let things end like that.  
  
“Adam!” he called out, half tempted to run after him if he kept one walking. But Adam stopped and turned around, confusion all over his face, “Do you think Mountview’s address is online?”  
  
“Probably. I think they have a website.” Adam replied, unsure why Eric would ask him something like that.  
  
Great. Now he needed an excuse for what he was gonna say next, “Then, I’ll write to you! I still have questions I need answering.”  
  
Well, it was true, sort of, at least. He _did_ have questions that hadn’t been answered.  
  
“What?” Adam asked, he’d definitely heard Eric perfectly, he was just shocked.  
  
“I said I’ll write to you whilst you’re there! Every week if I have to, you owe me.” Eric said that last bit, but not as seriously as he could’ve if he’d really only wanted to write to Adam for answers, “And when you get your phone, I’ll message you there too.”  
  
“You’re not joking?”  
  
“I’m not joking.”  
  
Adam was surprised, definitely surprised, but it was a good sort of surprise really. Eric still wanted to talk to him, even if it was just so he would get more of the answers he needed, Adam didn’t mind. That was enough to make him need to hide his obvious grin from Eric as he stood there, he had to look at the floor before he would look back up at Eric, his mouth still forming a subtle grin, “Then I look forward to hearing from you.”  
  
“I’ll talk to you later, Adam.”  
  
“Yeah, see you around, Eric.”  
  
And with that, Adam turned around and left, he didn’t let himself look at Eric’s reaction to calling him by his actual name, he knew it’d probably be funny (Eric was most likely stood there slack jawed and wide eyed), and if he’d laughed it would’ve ruined the moment. Besides, Eric looked good, Adam half regretted not making some sort of comment on his appearance, but was best to go home at that point anyway, if he was any later going home, he’d’ve run the risk of never being let outside the house again. Despite the fact he’d be back at the Military School by Monday, Adam didn’t feel sick at the thought of it, even if it was the reason he had a black eye. Knowing Eric might write to him whilst he was there, the thought of going back was a little more bearable.  
  
If only he had turned around though, he would’ve seen what Eric really looked like: he would’ve seen that, yes, Eric’s eyes were wide with surprise, but his mouth was tight shut, clenched even; if Adam hadn’t turned around to go home, he’d’ve seen how hard Eric was trying not to blush.  
  
_Shit..._   
  
This definitely wasn't going to be as easy as Eric had planned.


	5. I'm Handling It.

Oh shit.  
  
He hadn’t thought about that.  
  
But he was also happy.  
  
He hadn’t realised the risk he was taking.  
  
But he was still really happy.  
  
Eric had sent him a letter. But now he had to figure out how to hide it. It was never going to end well if the others found it, especially Michael (who was his roommate afterall), all Hell was going to break lose. He couldn’t risk another confrontation, he couldn’t risk losing his visitation rights back home; he’d only been back a week but Adam was already counting down the days to go till he would get back for the weekend. Maybe he’d be able to meet Eric again? Maybe even more than once for 20 minutes over two days. It'd been a shitty weekend, once he'd gotten back home that day: he ate dinner with his parents in complete silence and went back up to his bedroom where he pretty much forced himself to fall asleep because he had nothing better to do. The next day he got to walk the dog at 1:30pm, and the cycle repeated all the way until Monday morning when his mum used the 2nd car to drive him back to the institution. They didn’t talk during the journey either.  
  
Of course, that Monday his mum dropped him off, Michael looked pissed that he’d actually returned, he could only guess Michael usually got his way with this kind of thing, the others looked more surprised than annoyed to be honest. That day Adam couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy as he sat down in the main hall for lunch, really he was eating because he knew he’d pass out later of he didn’t eat something (physical training was as intense as ever), but he didn't feel hungry as he felt Michael’s gaze burn into the back of his head. Later that week, one Thursday during breakfast, he was handed a letter that he could only assume was from Eric. Adam promptly finished his meal as quickly as he could, giving himself an extra ten minutes to rush upstairs to his room to read and then hide the letter somewhere Michael wouldn’t go snooping around.  
  
_Adam,_ _  
_ _  
_ _I don’t really know what to write, I just know I promised to write to you. You’re gonna have to tell me what it’s like over there, I can’t really imagine it - and I definitely can’t imagine you actually following the rules._ _  
_ _  
_ _Things are fine back at school. Quieter, and with you gone there's an odd number of people in science class, so I do all the paired projects myself. Still, I haven’t been robbed in two months have I? Guess I can’t complain haha. It’s weird, how quiet it is though. Your Dad seems to be his usual self. Otis says hi, by the way, I explained what’s been going on, and he said he hopes you’re liking it over there. I know you’re not, but it’s the thought that counts, right?_ _  
_ _  
_ _My question: how did you find my address to put dog poo on my Dad’s car, and to write to me?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Eric._ _  
_ _  
_ Adam made a mental note in his head to write a reply and give it to the Captain before the start of dinner. He decided that it was best to place the letter in between his matress and the bedframe, he couldn’t risk throwing it in the bin in the room incase Michael spotted it, besides, he didn’t want to throw it away as girly as that sounded. He couldn’t help but smile as he tucked it away out of sight, grabbed his things and left the room.  
  
After hiding the letter, Adam headed down to the showers early to get washed, this time making sure he didn’t lose track of time (he couldn’t risk the rest of them walking in on him like that again). Having brought the training gear he’d be wearing that morning with him, he promptly dried himself down, brushed his teeth at one of the sinks and got dressed, leaving the showers just before the rest of his class entered. It was probably best to avoid Michael, no, judging by the look one Michael’s face as Adam passed him to leave the room, it was definitely best to avoid him as much as possible. But avoiding him where ever possible didn’t mean he was out of the woods, he still slept in the same room as him; Adam could only hope that Michael was the type to only try something with the rest of them there to back him up.  
  
Hopefully the next two months weren’t going to be so bad, well, he’d lasted a little under a week already, so there wasn’t any harm in thinking like that, right?  
  
  
  
\------------------------------------------  
  
  
“Eric?”  
  
Eric promptly replied by jumping from the surprise of hearing Otis’ voice. He must’ve been spacing out again. That had to be, what, the fourth time since school had started that day? He never even noticed it though, whenever it happened, it always took Otis or another classmate to bring him back down to earth again. His mind always went back to the letter he’d written Adam. Was he gonna bother reading it? Was he gonna reply? Was it just going to sit under his bed unread till the end of time?  
  
What if he did read it?  
  
It was a nice thought. Adam opening the letter and smiling. He could imagine the relief on his face knowing that the promise hadn’t been forgotten. It was nice, it was almost cute. Almost. Adam wasn’t cute. The letter he himself had written, was cute, that was it - nothing more than that. It’d been three days since he’d sent that letter. No response yet. But that was fine, it’d have to be.  
  
“Eric. Earth to Eric. Pack your bag up. We’re on lunch now?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I will.” Eric replied as he got out of his chair and began to pack his things way; history, although he was always equipped he always wished there was more to learn in the curiculum other than white people that invaded countries and kill all the natives. Or the royal family that couldn’t decided what part of the same religion they wanted the country to follow. It was interesting, but not what he really wanted to know, “Hey, don’t you have a therapy session or something today?”  
  
“No I don’t think- shit. Shit yes I do. Maeve is going to have my head- I’ve got to go.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Thanks, Eric. Lunch another day maybe?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
And with that Otis was out of the classroom; Eric could almost see the Otis shaped cloud of dust he’d left hovering in the air from how fast he’d sprinted out of the room. He knew ‘Lunch another day’ technically meant ‘Lunch far into the future that basically means never’. It wasn’t an issue, Otis and Maeve had run that clinic long enough for him to know what it was like to got to the 6th Form common room and eat alone. On the plus side, a lot of the time he got to eat with Lily instead, so he wasn’t one his own.  
  
Today wasn’t one of those days, however.  
  
Three days.  
  
Surely there’d be word from him soon.  
  
  
\------------------------------  
  
  
Holy shit. How did he- what did he- what the fuck? Was this real life? Was he dreaming? Was he having some sort of fever dream? There was no way this was real, this had to be some sick joke to get his hopes up, any second now he’ be told it was all a lie.  
  
He’d gotten a B on his English paper.  
  
Okay it was a low B. But a B nonetheless. The last time he’d seen a B on his paper that wasn’t from him writing an answer on the test was…. Never? It felt like never at least. This was insane, this was something to write home about, this was something to tell Eric about! It’d been a whole week since he’d received that letter from Eric, obviously when he’d first got it he planned to write back immediately with something to talk about… except he didn’t _have_ anything to talk about. Although he wanted to write to Eric, he didn’t want to write a boring letter either, what if it turned Eric off writing to him again? That couldn’t happen. He’d just have to apologise in his letter and explain and maybe Eric would understand? Besides, he hadn’t even had decent writing paper to write the letter with in the first place, and he didn’t want to trouble the Captain by asking for some (he’d already promised to supply him with envelopes for his letters anyway).  
  
He’d resorted to taking two sheets too many out of the English classroom; once a week the teacher gave them an essay to write, and every student had to collect 5 pages of ruled paper to write the essay out on. The school was stingy with its equipment, even stingier than his father and the way he ran Moordale, somehow. It was a risk. If he was caught taking more pages than he was allowed he’d lose privileges for sure: phone, free time and letter writing. But he did it anyway, he wanted Eric to read his letter on more than just an empty blank page he’d ripped out of the back of a book. Thankfully he’d been successful, and the extra sheets of paper he’d taken hadn’t been noticed by the teacher (or anyone else in the class for that matter.)  
  
That day after dinner, Adam rushed upstairs to his room before Michael had even sat down to eat (he’d gotten efficient at doing that). He pulled out the extra two sheets of paper he’d taken from the classroom that day as well as a sharpened pencil, using one of his books as a rest he began to finally write:  
  
  
_Eric,_ _  
_ _  
_ _It’s good to hear from you. Thanks for writing. I’m sorry I didn’t reply as quickly as I’d planned, it’s just, things got in the way: couldn’t find decent paper, couldn’t find anything decent to write about, couldn’t find a decent amount of time to sit down and write this. But I’m writing it now._ _  
_ _  
_ _Tell him thanks, by the way. It’s incredibly shit, but it was nice of him to say. I kinda miss robbing you of a morning, good old days and all that bollocks, though now I owe you a serious amount of money - which isn’t great._ _  
_ _  
_ _Everyone here is still a prick, but I’m handling it myself, like I said, and I’m doing fine right now. Great even - I got a B one my last english essay. It must mean some of it’s sticking in my head, right? It’s actually the one thing I enjoy in this place as weird as it sounds, and the teacher isn’t a dick either._ _  
_ _  
_ _Things aren’t shit, which is an improvement._ _  
_ _  
_ _My answer: my dad leaves his office unlocked when he goes round making sure the main doors are locked after school. And his password is too easy to guess - if you want to look at everyone’s records sometime, it’s Madam001. That’s how I found your address._ _  
_ _  
_ _Till next time?_   
Adam.  
  
Okay so there were a lot of other parts in that letter he’d scribbled out, but it was letter, and the stuff he hadn’t gotten rid of was still readable. It was a letter, that was the main thing. After he pre-read it for the third time he decided it was the best Eric was gonna get, so he folded the letter in half, and made his way over to the door to leave and make his way down to Captain Mayweather’s office. Only he had to stop himself from jumping out of his skin when he opened the door only to be face to face with Michael.  
  
“What are you up to, Freak?”  
  
“None of your business.” Adam replied, silently cursing himself - how long had it taken him to write that letter?  
  
Michael had clocked the folded paper in his hand. Shit.  
  
“Oh?” Michael began as he cocked one of his eyebrows in fake curiosity, “Has Freak written a letter?”  
  
“You should really think of a better insult other than freak.” Adam replied, calm, as he put his hand holding the letter right behind his back, “Let me though.”  
  
“Show me the letter.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Is it a letter to your girlfriend? No, I doubt you have one of those, your mum then?” Christ his voice was condescending.  
  
“Just let me through.”  
  
“Or maybe it’s a secret boyfriend you’ve got yourself-”  
  
“Just let me through the fucking door Michael!” Adam snapped, cutting Michael off mid sentence. He couldn’t stand Michael’s voice, his tone, how egotistical he sounded - for a moment Adam couldn’t help but think if he used to be like that too. But Michael hadn’t reacted to his outburst, instead he’d just stood there, still smug looking, until he thought of something else to try and put Adam over the edge.  
  
“Only if you say please.”  
  
Adam was ready to punch him. He was so ready to just break his nose and keep one walking. This prick really thought he was the royalty of the fucking school didn’t he? Adam was surprised he was being this cocky without the rest of his group stood behind him. But he couldn’t punch, he couldn’t fight, he couldn’t even so much as flick him in the forehead. He had to be calm or be at risk of not being able to talk to Eric. His was one lifeline outside of that building - he didn’t want to let go of that.  
  
For the first time in a very long time, Adam swallowed his own pride (which was no doubt a bitter taste), and complied, he was quiet but very audible: “Let me through the door, please.”  
  
“Couldn’t quite hear that last word, sorry, can you say it again?”  
  
There was a small pause before Adam replied, glaring hard at Michael as he let out a slightly louder “Please.”  
  
Michael allowed the moment to sink in, a gross look of victory spread across his face as he stood to one side and allowed Adam to walk past him. Immediately Adam clutched the letter close to his chest as he brushed passed Michael, not wanting to give him an opportunity to snatch the letter out of his hand. Adam didn’t even want to think of what’d happen if Michael used that letter against him, what the rest of his group would do, so he didn’t - and instead he continued walking over to Captain Mayweather’s office to hand him the letter to put in an envelope and post.  
  
As he handed the Captain over the letter, Adam couldn’t help but feel a little sick as he felt it leave his grasp. But surely the Captain wouldn’t read it, something so personal, surely he’d just put it in it’s envelope and send it off with the other letters, right? Besides, there was nothing inherently suspicious about the words he’d written. He was being ridiculous, even if the Captain did read it, there was no way he’d be able to decipher any sort of romantic feeling from what he’d written down. Yeah. Yeah that was it. It’d be fine either way.  
  
But Adam couldn’t help but feel like being sick as he watched the Captain, holding his letter, shut the door to his office behind him.  
  
Adam was left standing alone in the hallway. Michael was upstairs in their room. Michaels group of friend roamed the entire building like they lived in the walls. Eric was what felt like hours and hours away, and his parents weren’t even on the radar in terms of talking to him. That hallway felt a lot bigger, a lot longer, once the Captain shut that door.  
  
For once, Adam wished he was at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed! and of course any constructive criticisms are welcome!


	6. I Miss You.

“Eric…” Adam muttered under his breath. There he was, stood in front of him, he was finally out of Military School for good. There was nothing between him and Eric, not even Michael, not even his Dad or his Mum - nobody.   
  
“Long time no see.” Eric replied, a faint smile across his face, taking a step closer towards him as he did so.   
  
It felt unreal, seeing Eric like this, so close, but at the same time he’d never felt better. He looked good too, with his bright blue eyeliner, he looked just how he’d looked the last time he’d seen him (even his outfit), but Adam didn’t mind.   
  
“I wasn’t sure if this would happen again.” Adam stated, taking a step toward Eric as well, closing the gap between them. They were stood by the river, the stones uneven beneath their feet, the water calm and the air was cool.   
  
“Me either, but I’m glad it is.” Eric replied, the space between them getting smaller and smaller, Adam could almost feel the world around them disappearing, “I missed you, Adam.”   
  
That was it, before Adam could process what he was doing, his arms were wrapped around Eric in a hug. It felt warm, but also like it could never be tight enough to stop Eric from slipping away. What surprised Adam even more was the fact that Eric hadn’t tried to push himself out of the hold, rather, he was hugging back.   
  
“I think I really like you.” Adam muttered quietly, hugging Eric a little tighter as he did so. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as he said it. There was a moment of quiet before Eric replied:   
  
“I think I really like you too.”  
  
Adam felt his heart squeeze a little as Eric said those words.   
  
“This doesn’t feel like real life, does it?”   
  
Eric laughed a little as he replied, the pair of them still hugging, “What are you talking about? Adam, you’re such a freak sometimes!”   
  
“What?” Adam asked, pulling back from the hug a little to look at Eric, a sickly feeling developing in his stomach as Eric's words settled in his ears.  
  
“It’s time to wake up, Freak.”   
  
“What the fuck are you on about?”   
  
“Freak. It’s time to wake up!”   
  
With a jolt from being pushed hard in the shoulder, Adam woke up in his bed at Military School, Michael was stood above him, a look of annoyance spread across his face as he stared down at him. Adam looked back at him, incredulous about what was happening.   
  
“Did you go deaf or something? Get the fuck out of bed.”   
  
With that Michael left the room to get ready for the day. Adam remained in bed, frozen in shock about what’d just happened - all of that, had been a dream? It’d been a while since he’d felt this embarrassed about something, for a moment he'd actually panicked that Michael knew just what he'd been dreaming about in his sleep. He’d dreamed about Eric? Sure he’d been sending letters to him, and they’d met face to face (even if only once), but was that really enough for him to start dreaming about the guy?   
  
Adam couldn’t help but feel a lump rise in his throat as he pulled himself out of bed to get ready, he'd never felt so shit getting out of bed before, and the day ahead already seemed like a task too big to complete.  
  
Just how badly had he fallen for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for how short the chapter is! But i really wanted to write, and I'll probably do another one of these but about Eric. till next time then guys!


	7. Trees Aren't Good for Hiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so its been like a month  
> but i had writers block on where to take this  
> since im making it up as i go  
> sorry guys!! but i hope you enjoy this chapter!

His left shoulder was aching pretty badly, not like he needed to go to the infirmary or anything, it just hurt. Cross Country running. Once every other week, the class would be taken on a 3 mile race around the school and local area. Along the way there were wooded areas where the path was covered with dead and fallen branches, and brambles that would snag against your shoe laces. Adam had explained it away that he’d simply fallen on his shoulder after tripping over a large branch. That’s what he allowed the Captain to believe anyway. He was just thinking about the pain in his shoulder when he briefly made eye contact with Michael, they were partnered up for firing practice, and Adam found his smug look slightly infuriating. It’s like he thought he was winning or some shit. Maybe he was winning?    
  
But just because that may have been the case, Adam couldn’t let on to what was happening:   
  
1) If his Dad found out, he’d assume he was trying to leave Mountview early and probably extend his stay as a result.   
  
2) If the teachers didn’t believe him, he could pretty much consider himself a dead man walking by Michael and his friends.   
  
3) If the teachers didn’t believe him, they’d also revoke his privileges like his phone or writing letters for a while - and that meant not talking to the one person willing to talk to him.   
  
It had to be best to just ride it out.   
  
By now he’d finished the books he’d ‘borrowed’ from the old library. But because of that, he felt like there wasn’t much in terms of something else he would read that’d be remotely interesting; but as he was replacing those books, he’d found couple of other titles that seemed worth looking into at least. They were older than the Roald Dahl books, a lot older, by a few decades at least, but the titles looked interesting: Lord of the Flies and Murder on the Orient Express. God knows who the dumbass was that crowned himself Lord of the fucking Flies, and he wasn’t sure was the word orient even meant! Plus, they looked really wordy, and there were no pictures, so Adam didn’t know if he could be arsed with ever finishing them (or even getting past the first three pages). But they were two of the few titles in that near empty room that looked readable.   
  
He could at least try them, right?   
  
That dream was still rattling his brain, if he wasn’t focusing on avoiding Michael and his friends, or writing a letter to Eric, or his English work, he was thinking about that stupid fucking dream. Why did that one dream, that lasted all of a minute, have him so hung up about it? It made no sense, it was almost annoying. But that wasn’t to say he hadn’t enjoyed the dream persay, it was just that he wasn’t liking the aftermath of it.   
  
Not to mention how much more cautious he had to be about how and when he’d write his letters to Eric; to be honest it was like Michael was keeping a closer eye on him. It used to be where he’d only really make an effort to annoy or get to Adam if they met by chance in the halls or during class when the teachers couldn’t see, now it was like he was going out of his way to see him. Was he on to him? Had he somehow found the letter from Eric he’d kept under his mattress? If he had then- no. No. He would’ve used it against him by now.   
  
Shit. He didn’t remember being this paranoid, even when he smoked pot.   
  
But it was Friday, and tomorrow was Saturday. And that meant he’d be able to call Eric soon.   
  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------   
  
  
It was finally Saturday. After looking up the Military School Adam was at, Eric had discovered a general idea of the activities Adam had to do daily. Sometimes he’d even catch himself wondering about what type of training or practice Adam was up to when he was sat next to Otis at lunch; it was still a weird idea, Adam actually following the rules. Hell, he was actually doing well in lessons, a B in one of his English essays? If someone had told Eric that Adam was even capable of that a few months back, he knew he'd have scoffed.    
  
It was Saturday. Which meant Adam would call him.    
  
This would be their first phone call together. After Adam had gone back, it’d taken him two weeks to even writer Eric a letter back, there was no attempt at a phone call in that time from Eric - what if Adam had decided he didn’t want to speak to him anymore? There was no reason to call if he thought Adam wasn’t interested.    
  
_ “Interested in talking, that is, just talking.”  _ Eric reminded himself as he scrolled through his phone. His phone was fully charged, he’d made sure of that, and he made sure the phone was never out of his hand or back pocket. They hadn’t swapped numbers, but Eric and unblocked him from instagram - so they’d call there. He would always grab Adam’s number later.    
  
What time did they usually get their phones back? 9am? 10am? Eric didn’t know, but what he did know was that the clock was nearing twelve, and with every tick of those two hands, he felt the chances of Adam actually calling him dwindling.    
  
It had to be Adam that called him. He’d made the effort with the letters, now it was Adam’s turn to make an effort with the phone calls.   
  
  


\--------------------------------------------   
  
  
His Mum wasn’t picking up. And there was no point in trying to call his Dad, not that he wanted to. Still, it still hurt that she wouldn’t pick up. Maybe he’d completely pulled her into the idea that he was the worst son a mother could ask for? That he was nothing but a troublemaker who didn’t need coddling from his Mum? That he’d gotten himself into this mess, and that it was up to him alone to get out of it.    
  
What if he was the worst son a mother could ask for?   
  
Either way. She wasn’t picking up.    
  
It was getting close to twelve, he knew he’d have to make that phone call to Eric sooner or later. But not in his room. Not anywhere near Michael or his friends, or anyone else in his year for that matter. Because if they were in his year, they would go talking to Michael. After wandering around the School’s grounds, he’d come across a quiet spot in the far left corner of the field. That corner was swimming with trees and bushes, and plenty of shade for him to hide with if need be. And the reception for his call was actually pretty good. Surely, no one was going to spot him here?   
  
After finding Eric’s account on Instagram, he went into a private message. Their chat was empty. They’d never talked on Instagram before, and Eric had only unblocked him after they’d began sending letter to one another. But here he was, about to call him. They’d probably talk for a while before Eric got bored and hung up on him, Adam would then make his way back into the school, head to his room and while away the rest of the time he had left with his phone for the rest of the weekend.   
  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------   
  
  
His thumb hesitated over the call button. He wanted Adam to call, not him, but if he had to make the first move… so be it? Maybe there was a reason Adam hadn’t called him yet, besides not wanting to talk to him anymore. Maybe he’d lost his phone? Maybe it’d been taken off him? Maybe whoever had punched him had hidden it and he was searching for it right now?    
  
What if whoever had punched him was finishing what he’d started?   
  
Eric shoved aside a sickly feeling, and refocused his attention on that call button. Any second now he’d press it and wait for Adam to pick up. If he picked up, they’d talk for a while before Adam decided he was bored and hung up on him, and Eric would spend the rest of his weekend making his way through coursework and unfinished projects.   
  
_ Just do it now. Just press the button. It’s just a call to Adam, not the Prime Minister. _   
  
Fixed with his new resolve to press the call button, Eric’s thumb was just a millimeter from making contact with the screen, before he saw the chat turn into a mixture of purples and oranges, with Adam’s profile picture sat in the middle of it all as the colours morphed and changed.   
  
Adam was calling him.   
  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------   
  
  
The call seemed to ring out for a few seconds, well, a few seconds longer than Adam felt comfortable with. But Eric did pick up, for the first twenty or so seconds the picture quality was grainy, and there was a back and forth of “Hello? Can you hear me? Can you see me? No? Better now? Want me to find a better signal?” between the two of them before any conversation really began. But as soon as the picture and audio quality improved, their conversation nosedived into a silence. Eric wasn’t talking first, that much was clear from what Adam could tell - so it was up to him.   
  
“So… How’s my Dad?”   
  
Bad starting point.   
  
“Your Dad? He’s um, alright I guess. He doesn’t really seem off or anything.”   
  
“So he’s doing good?”   
  
“Um… I’m not sure. He’s just, the same I guess. It’s like you leaving hasn’t affected him really. Sorry.” Eric replied, knowing how harsh that may have come across.   
  
“Don’t be, he hasn’t contacted me at all whenever I’m here, and he’s probably stopping my Mum from doing the same.” Adam replied, by now he’d sat himself down one the ground, his back resting against of the bark of a tree, the bushes and shade seemed to do a  good job of hiding him despite how tall he was.   
  
“Really?”   
  
“Yeah. Neither of them will even text me, or my sister. Got no friends back at Moordale either.”   
  
“So it’s just me?”   
  
“Just you. And Madam, if she even counts.” Adam stated, a forced smile passing his lips as he realised how desperately sad that sounded. That couldn’t be an attractive quality for Eric to know he had, right?   
  
“I was like that too I guess.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“For years all I had was Otis. I mean, I had my family but they didn’t know I was into guys, or makeup, or any of that.”   
  
“Your Dad seemed like he knew, at Prom.”   
  
“That was the first night I showed them all who I really was. He dropped me off.”   
  
“Sounds like a pretty alright Dad if you ask me.”   
  
“Yeah, not too bad as long as he doesn’t have dog poo all over his car.” Eric replied with smirk.   
  
“I thought I apologised for that?” Adam retorted, a softer grin showing across his face as he did so.   
  
“Yeah, yeah, you did, don’t worry.” Eric replied. The pair allowed two or three seconds of silence to pass before the conversation continued, “Does your Dad know about what happened? Is that why he sent you there?”   
  
“What happened in detention?” Adam asked, he watch Eric nod in affirmation before really replying, “No. He can’t know, ever. It’d just… No. That won’t happen, he can’t find out, ever.”   
  
“So he sent you there because of your grades?”   
  
“And my behaviour.”   
  
“Ahh.” Eric replied agreement.   
  
“You of all people should’ve guessed that one.” Adam replied. Despite how easy the joke seemed to come from him, the feeling of guilt was harder to let go after he said it.   
  
“I guess that’s true,” Eric agreed, “but to be fair, you seem different. In your letters, and when we met, even now. Somehow you just seem… Different to who you were before.”   
  
“I guess you’re right about that. Things have changed, so I have too.” Adam replied, thinking back one everything that’d happened in such a short amount of time. Giving into what he wanted, being shipped off by his parents, getting punched, all of it. It was weird to think he was at Moordale around four months ago - a place that seemed a whole lifetime away from him now.   
  
He was different, right?   
  
“Eric?”   
  
“Adam.”   
  
“Can I ask you something?”   
  
“Um… Sure?” Eric replied, a little uneasy at the serious look one Adam’s face, besides, wasn’t the point of them calling to ask questions anyway?    
  
“Do you think, when I get back from here, you’d want to meet up?”   
  
“Like when you’re visiting?”   
  
“Well, yeah, but after that too. When I come home for good.”   
  
“Meet up how, Adam?” Eric asked, a feeling rising in his stomach, a feeling he couldn’t describe - it was either unease or anticipation, and he didn’t know which one he really wanted it to be.   
  
“See, the thing is Eric, I was thinking- I was thinking it’d be more than a meet up?” Adam stated, almost rhetorically. His eyebrows were knitted tightly together, and his mouth was formed in a grimace as a result of what he was asking. He didn’t know where this was coming from, it was like some creature leaving it’s cave for the first time in a while, but he did know that he could feel the thoughts in his head take over the rest of his body, the words he was saying. It was like he was listening to himself say all of this with no control over what actually left his mouth.   
  
“More than a meet up?” Eric asked. Alright, deep down, he knew what Adam was probably trying to get to. But that didn’t mean he was going to assume. If he was gonna hear, he was gonna hear it from Adam and Adam alone - no way in Hell was he going to let his own imagination run away with what was happening.    
  
“Eric I was wondering if you wanted to go-”   
  
“On a date?”   
  
Adam froze. His stomach clenched tightly. His hands went clammy. The ache in his shoulder started to spread across his torso. His eyes bulged slightly as those words hit his ears. His chest was stuck mid-breath, and his attention was no longer on Eric one screen. He was looking somewhere else, at  _ someone _ else. That hadn’t been Eric who had spoken, it had been this _ someone  _ else. Eric could only sit there in confusion, watching Adam completely frozen in time, for a few seconds he thought the connection may have timed out. But Adam blinked at one point, showing the connection was just fine. Everything seemed fine, except for Adam, in that moment.   
  
“Adam? What’s going on? What’s happening?”   
  
In a split second the call ended. Adam had ended the call. All Eric could do was stare as his phone returned to their empty chat. The silence had never seemed so loud before. Adam had ended the call. Adam had ended the call?   
  
What the fuck?

  
  
\-------------------------------------------------   
  
  
“Who the fuck are you?” Adam asked after he ended the call with Eric. He immediately stood himself upright, puffing out his chest as he locked eye contact with the stranger in front of him.   
  
They were small. Smaller than him at least, definitely smaller than Michael. His hair was a dirty blond colour that only just sat above his slightly bushy eyebrows. He looked pretty pale in the face, but there were other parts of his body like his arms that’d managed to catch a slightly darker tan. He was staring back, one brow cocked in a sort of faux look of confusion or mystery. It was immediately annoying.    
  
“I said, who the fuck are you?” Adam repeated, taking a step forward, although he was still quite a distance from the stranger. He was wearing the uniform, and he didn’t look at that much younger or older than him - was he in his year? Adam was now stood at the edge of the bushes, just another step from leaving the shade and standing in the direct sunlight the other  guy seemed to bask in. He look almost, happy for some reason? Which was a contrast to how sick Adam was beginning to feel as he realised what’d happened:   
  
  
He’d been spotted.   
  
He’d been heard.   
  
This guy would tell others.   
  
Those others would feed their information back to Michael.   
  
Michael would tell his other close friends (if they didn’t know already).   
  
The teachers would know.   
  
The school would tell his dad.   
  
  
The school would tell his dad.   
  
  
Adam was practically dead already.   
  
  
“Did you hear me? The fuck do you want?”   
  
The guy soon replied, his voice slightly lower than Adam had expected, a smile growing broader across his face before he spoke, “Based on what I heard? I just want to talk.”


	8. A Swift Turn of Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So its been a while
> 
> Sorry
> 
> I needed motivation since I'm writing this plot chapter by chapter
> 
> I found motivation tho

“So… What do you think is wrong with him?”

“Besides everything else?”

“Otis, don’t, I’m being serious here.”

“Well maybe I am too?”

The one time he needed Otis in a crisis, and he was doing an absolutely awful job of being useful. It’d beEric just needed him to say something comforting like how everything was going to be fine, that the call probably timed out, that something happened that meant it wasn’t his fault. But no. Otis was busy doing the exact opposite, twiddling a pencil between his fingers and being the exact opposite of helpful.

“Look,” Otis said, laying the pencil down on the desk in front of them, “Maybe someone caught his attention and he had to end the call? Did it look like that may have happened?”

Eric went back to last Saturday when Adam had called him: everything seemed fine, and then he went dead silent and just ended the call. 

“Maybe?” Eric replied.

“Maybe?” Otis repeated, still not impressed with the context of their conversation. He still wasn’t comfortable with the idea that Eric was talking to Adam so… comfortably? Was it comfortable? For either party? Eric could easily be being manipulated, and although he knew Adam had his fair share of bullshit to sort out, Otis wasn’t really that ready to trust him. Not after 4 years of tormenting his best friend.

“Give me a break! This is stressful, extremely stressful.” Eric sighed, shoving his head into his hands.

“It would stopped being stressful if you stopped talking to him then-”

“No!” Eric exclaimed on impulse, lifting his head from his hands to look at Otis.

“Why not?”

“Because…. Because I just can’t.”

Otis looked at him for a few seconds. He couldn’t deny, he loved Eric like a brother, no denying that; Hell, he’d give his kidneys for him if he had to. But something he couldn’t help but feel like he was his own worst enemy - befriending the guy who tormented him? It just didn’t make a whole lot of sense. He felt his phone buzz in his coat pocket, so fished it out and looked at the time, he had to go. 

As Otis packed up his things from the table in front of them, he spoke again, “You won’t stop talking to him because you don’t want to stop, or do you feel like you’re not allowed to stop, which one is it? Because I think it’s about time you figured it out, Eric.”

Eric watched as his best friend slung his bag over his shoulder and left the 6th Form common room. 

He couldn’t deny it, Otis had a good point.

 

\------------------------------------

 

This was fucking weird. There was no denying it. Adam’s thoughts were running through his head at the million miles a second, all the while the guy that had just discovered his secret was sat there looking at the bruising on his shoulder. The fuck was happening? Was this normal? Did strangers usually do this when they find out something like this? Was this pity treatment? He felt like asking all of these questions, but the pair of them continued to sit in silence as the stranger, who still hadn’t told him his name, checked out his bruising. Eventually, though,, Adam couldn’t take the quiet any longer and had to talk:

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m first aid trained.” The guy replied, not looking up from what he was doing as he did so. Seemed like he was just applying some sort of heat patch to relax whatever was wrong in his shoulder. He’d only noticed something was wrong because Adam had winced in pain after shoving him in an attempt to get answers.

“No, I mean why are you being like this?”

 

“Do you mean being nice?”

“What do you want from me?” Adam replied, changing the topic slightly.

“To stop doing whatever you do to bruise yourself like this, mainly.” The guy replied with a smirk, he was being sly, dodging the answers Adam wanted like this, and he knew it, he was having his fun. Which was still annoying. God this guy was annoying. 

“What’s your name?” Adam asked, trying to get through this encounter with minimal stress; he just wanted to make sure this guy would keep his mouth shut and leave him alone. They were still outside, and whatever his name was had a bag on him when he found Adam sat against the tree. For whatever reason he had a first aid kit in it, and although he was doing a decent job of treating the bruising, Adam felt completely sick to his stomach at the idea of what this guy would do with the information he’d overheard: blackmail? Would he tell Michael? Would he tell the school?

“Alex. Yours?”

He hesitated for a second, but eventually he replied, “Adam.”

“Nice.” Alex replied as he began to pack away his things and put them back in his bag.

“What were you doing walking around?”

“I usually sit out here to paint, listen to music, whatever I want really. All the others stay inside to use their phones.”

“Paint?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good, but in a place like this if they found out, they'd probably make sure I couldn’t walk for a week.”

There was a slight pause before Adam would being himself to speak, “And, are you? Are you-”

“Gay? Completely. Not that anyone else really knows.”

“Then why tell me?”

“Because we’re the same.” Alex said as he finished up packing up, “I’m all done, it’s just bruising, which is pretty lucky considering how widespread it is. You should’ve went to the nurse.”

“I’m not gay.” Adam replied, standing up and wiping down his pants from any stray dirt or grass, “And I didn’t want to, too much hassle.”

Alex looked at Adam dead on, his left eyebrow raised in mock confusion, “You’re telling me, that you, the guy who I heard asking out another guy, are not attracted to men?”

“I mean, I am, but I’m, I’m not gay. I’m really not.”

“Bi?”

Adam was beginning to fluster, “I- I dunno.”

“Pan?”

“The fuck is that?”

“It means that- Look. You’re not straight, you know that much, right?”

“I guess?”

“Right. You’re the only other not straight guy in this place that I know of. So let’s just be friends, you know? Learn to get along?”

Adam didn’t know how to reply to this, not to mention he’d button Eric mid-call; how was he going to explain all of this? What if Eric was pissed with him? What if an explanation wasn’t good enough?

What if this was the start of something he couldn’t solve by himself?

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys want more chapters, let me know! I enjoyed writing this, so I hope you really enjoyed reading it too!
> 
> Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed reading, and I'm always up for hearing helpful criticism!


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